Mech: Shattering of the Galaxy-Chapter 162 - 72: One vs. Three (Congratulations Alliance Hierarch, I Don’t Want It)

(Congratulations to the newly promoted Alliance Hierarch "I Don’t Want", who stunned everyone with a 50,000 coin reward two hours before shelf time, here’s an extra update as a gift!)

Hmm?

Mu Fan keenly noticed the movements of these few people. What exactly were they doing?

Why did four candidates suddenly appear here?

However, the others did not make any move for the time being, and Mu Fan did not react much either. He pulled out a small bunch of dry moss from his backpack, which he had found on a piece of sun-exposed deadwood in the open air. In the jungle, it was a great fire-starting material.

Then he took out some branches and a small piece of wood.

What was he planning to do?

Surely he wasn’t going to start a fire this way!

The other four looked at him with strange glances, witnessing a method of starting fire that existed only in history books come alive.

The three of them had tried before, but failed.

Thinking of this, the three glanced fiercely again at another person in the corner, who shrank a bit under their malevolent gazes.

This group had first asked about his mysterious backpack, which he claimed he had lost and then got beaten for it. When they heard it contained a lighter, he got beaten up again.

Who knew that lighter would be so useful? Now he somewhat regretted his foolish action on the transporter.

Really regretful! If only I hadn’t thrown it away…

No, even if I hadn’t thrown it away, it would have been stolen!

The candidate buried his face in his knees in pain.

All tears.

Over there, Mu Fan was concentrating on arranging all the fire-starting materials and then clasped the branch with both hands.

Rub!

His hands instantly turned into a blur.

The three were wide-eyed. This guy’s movements were so practiced!

Little did they know that when Mu Fan hunted in the wilderness, starting a fire this way was just routine for him.

Hiss, first a puff of white smoke rose, then a few sparks began to dance.

The sparks quickly ignited the surrounding dry moss, the small fire spreading until it ignited several dry sticks.

Funny to think that these dry materials were found beside a river with no vegetation cover.

The fire picked up fast, and seeing how calmly the boy managed it, the three exchanged looks— what was this kid planning to do with a fire inside?

He didn’t look wet at all.

Soon they figured out Mu Fan’s intention when they saw a large piece of meat!

Bloody snake meat was taken out by Mu Fan, cut into several pieces. Then, with his left hand gently holding it down, his right hand thrust a longer branch through the meat.

Time to roast the meat!

Pity there was no salt.

Mu Fan felt a bit regretful inside, but as his right hand skillfully flipped the meat, its fragrance quickly filled the air.

Watching the boy deftly roll the meat back and forth, the meat soon began to sizzle.

Gurgle.

This time it wasn’t Mu Fan, but the other four people present.

Including the unfortunate candidate who had lost the lighter, whose stomach was now growling loudly, not having eaten anything since morning.

Their eyes had turned green.

This kid actually had meat to eat!

Didn’t they know that they had been starving for a whole day?

Mu Fan concentrated intently on the meat in front of him, which was now seventy percent cooked, and in a little while, it would be ready to eat!

The four’s eyes followed the flipping meat incessantly.

The guy took the roasted meat back.

He took a bite!

Such a big bite!

Chomping down, Mu Fan swallowed a piece of meat in one gulp, smacked his lips appreciatively—the taste was not bad. This was the first time he had roasted snake meat to eat. There were no pythons of this size on Loga Star.

The meat was tender, but still a bit gamey, without alcohol to soak or salt to enhance the flavor.

It would have to do, and thinking that, he took another bite!

"Gurgle," as the youngster tore off another bite of meat and swallowed it down. The four people swallowed another mouthful of saliva.

Losing the mysterious grand prize—a lighter—left the poor examinee disheartened; he turned his head away, no longer looking in this direction. Knowing from Mu Fan’s demeanor that he was not someone to be trifled with, he decided it was best to quietly sit in the corner.

With the mottled light and shadows in the warehouse, coupled with the traces of snake blood on his face, the group couldn’t see Mu Fan’s real face, so they didn’t realize this was the infamous No. 1578 "Great Demon King"!

The three had already stood up and were walking towards Mu Fan.

Just as Mu Fan swallowed another piece of grilled meat, feeling the meat break down quickly in his stomach and convert into a warm flow, he comfortably squinted his eyes.

"Hm?" Suddenly seeing a shadow cover his vision, Mu Fan, squatting on the ground, looked up to find three people staring at him intently.

Two tall and one short, they looked quite sturdy, standing side by side in the same combat uniforms, their presence imposingly direct.

"Is there something?"

Mu Fan swallowed the meat he was chewing and asked calmly.

"Hey, did you see that kid over there?" one of them suddenly pointed to the examinee with his head buried in his knees.

Mu Fan glanced over there briefly before turning his gaze back, remaining silent.

"He’s quite compliant, and we hope you’ll be too, or you’ve seen what could happen." The man gestured, indicating their group of three.

"What’s in that mysterious backpack of yours?"

One of the examinees with a square face asked, pointing to the combat pack.

"Am I familiar with you?"

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Feeling that the language of the few in front of him was somewhat abnormal, Mu Fan couldn’t be bothered to respond.

He lowered his head again and took another bite of the grilled meat.

The grease on the snake meat sizzled, as the sight of the delicacy moved again towards the mouth of the young boy.

The three men couldn’t bear it anymore.

"Kid, we don’t want any more trouble. Leave the meat and the backpack, and go sit over there." The square-faced examinee pointed again towards the corner, signaling for Mu Fan to go sit with the unlucky fellow.

Mu Fan recalled the scene he had witnessed earlier of mutual slaughter and then looked at these three who were merely threatening him, shaking his head.

Before they could misunderstand his intention, he spoke, his voice steady and unhurried, "The meat is mine, the backpack is mine, I just want to eat in peace and then continue on my way."

"Eugene, let’s split the kid’s meat among us, and leave the stuff in the backpack for Young Master Zhang."

The shortest of the three examinees said to the square-faced one.

Mu Fan saw the patience in the eyes of the three opposite him had completely worn away, and they dispersed, surrounding him.

As he flipped the roasted meat, he stopped his wrist, then leaned the stick against his back and dusted off his hands.

Mu Fan stood up.

His right arm raised, his gaze shot towards the three.

Actually trying to steal my meat!

The three opposite had no idea how much this boy valued the piece of meat compared to the backpack.

"What a shame."

"Too bad."

"Just lie down here and wait to be eliminated."

Each of them remarked, already concluding the fate of the young man before them.

The unfortunate fellow in the corner looked pitifully at Mu Fan; the three examinees, each with a physique level above 17, were enclosing him in this tight space—it was almost predictable what would happen to the youngster.

None of them took out a dagger; they were eager to see the youngster in front of them begging for mercy under their fists.

And then watching his desperate look seemed like a very satisfying thing to imagine.

With a cold glint in his eyes, Mu Fan’s muscles began to mobilize.

He left his hand hover in the air, then with a small step, he steadied himself.

His right arm twisted downwards, elbow bent outward, his fist clenched, and his left palm pressed against his right fist.

One arm against six fists, Mu Fan was fearless.

In the Loga Star Martial Arts Hall, this defensive "Martial Arts Skill" was embryonic—

Half Arm Guard!

*********

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